Happy Evil Love Story
by zealousfreak27
Summary: Jim finally gets around to getting a "live-in one." Seb is a bit conflicted; maybe he can blame it on being woken up so early. MorMor, one-shot.


**AN/ You guys. I was writing something else, and this HAPPENED. Without my consent. This song really prompted it: www . youtube . com (slash) watch?v=7FGQ5i93DnU, proving my theory that there is a Phineas and Ferb song for everything.**

**Warnings: Twisted love. Explicit language. I had to write some real MorMor lovins'.  
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"Hey. Seb. Wake up, Sebby."

Rub at my eyes, blink them open. Holy shit, why is there a cyclops staring at me? No wait. Not a cyclops. Two eyes close to my face, blurring them together. Brown, maliciously happy eyes.

"Jim. Get the hell off."

He pouts. It's alarming, but an expression I am seeing increasingly. How he'd even get in here? This is my flat! Oh, damn, there's really no point is there? He can worm his way anywhere. Figured that out the third day on the job when he showed up in my old bathroom while I was in the shower. In hindsight, now that we're doing bad things together in the night, he was probably trying to get an eyeful. Huh.

"You _wound_ me, Seb."

I snort and his pout could probably bend anyone. Not me. Doesn't effect me. God, how the hell's he so cute? Is he cute? Cute? I use the word _cute_ now? Fucking a man's turned me into a damn pansy! I'm a ex-army sniper, not a thirteen year old girl.

His hair looks really nice, greased like that. I want to dig my hands into it - I'm doing it again.

"Why the hell are you here, Jim? I could have shot you." I pull my pistol out from under my pillow and toss it aside. "You're asking for it, you bloody bastard." Surprising he made his way in here without blowing something up. I probably need to work on my explosives safety...

He just giggles and it's not endearing _at all_. Nope. "My Sebby: swears more before six o'clock than most people swear all day."

"That's right, you goddamn fucking bastard." Oh wait; several things wrong with his statement. "I'm not _your Sebby_." I glance at the clock next to my bed. "The hell, Jim! Five forty-five! What the fucking fuck!"

He ignores me; typical. "You're moving in with me."

"Oh, I am, am I?" Him and his presumptions.

He nods solemnly. "I need a live-in one."

"What, a body guard? Sniper?" All roles I fufill, but part of me hopes he says, _Boyfriend_. If that part of me were to take on a physical form it would probably be an adorable baby tiger and the rest of me would kill it. I regularly have to beat it into submission.

"Nope, an ordinary person." He runs a hand through my hair and I think, _Oh god, a cuddling mood. Last time he wanted a cuddle I didn't get to move all day. _Then, _Wait a fucking second.  
_

"Oh, I'm ordinary now?" I pin him down. I'm just a _smidge_ stronger than him, the pasty git. He just grins. "I wasn't ordinary two nights ago when you were screaming my name. How ordinary was I when I had a gun pointed at your head?" Ah, good memories. First time I met him, he'd sent someone to kill me because a client had wanted me dead. Ended up hiring me when he saw I was capable. The _look_ on his face, facing the barrel of my gun -

My reminiscence is interrupted by him pressing a kiss to my cheek. It's not enjoyable. I don't shiver - oh god I just did a full-body shiver. "You surprised me. Still do. That's why you're not dead right now." That is the most arousing thing anyone has ever said to me. "You're mine now." Okay, scratch what I just thought, _that _is the most arousing thing I've ever heard. "You're still ordinary though." Damn the man, ruining it! I was getting in the mood.

I growl and turn away to get dressed. "No way in hell am I moving in with you. God, I don't even know where you live."

He drapes himself over my back and starts whining. Prick. "That's the mystery, Tiger."

I roll my eyes. "Not all of us need fucking intricate schemes to keep us busy." I pull out my rifle and press a kiss to it. Lovely thing. Named it Tigress. She's a beauty.

He pouts again. "Keep doing that and I might get jealous."

I resist the urge to stick my tongue out. "Maybe that's the point."

I'm about to stand up, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back onto the bed. "Come on," he says. He's almost begging. It's quite gratifying. "You know you want to. Think of all the fun we'll have! You love shooting people!"

"I do that already." One of the many job requirements, or benefits as I would say. Along with terrorizing John Watson, listening to the Bees Gees, and recently, making gingerbread men. Oh god, the fact that I enjoy that is going no further than my head.

"We can be together every night I'm home." That sounds appealing. "Send death threats. Laugh at our little consulting detective." His voice is steadily lowering. "I have torture porn."

I groan. "Of course you do." I turn to look at him. "You just want me to do your laundry for you. You and your fucking Westwoods." I get out of his hold and stand. "Believe it or not, you can't make me do anything."

His eyes blaze and he stand as well. It's amazing how intimidating he can be. "Oh, my pour, deluded Seb. I can make you do _whatever I want_."

And later, as I'm packing my stuff, I'm inclined to agree with him.

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**AN/ Will be back soon! (What has this fandom done to me?)  
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**Reviews are like fuel for me.  
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